Birthday Cake
by DJMitsu
Summary: "What...what is it?" Pointless fluff I had floating around in my head, NOT FRUK, more of a family thing.


"What...what is it?"

The two sat in a large, elaborately furnished room; two blondes, one significantly smaller and rougher in appearance then his elder, who had to help him up onto the chair where he sat, peeking over the edge of the table at the large plate in front of him.

"It's a birthday cake! You don't even know what that is, Angleterre?" The older of the two chuckled, clicking his tongue in disapproval as the other's head snapped up to glare at him, arms crossed over his chest defiantly.

"I know what it is France, stupid Frog, but why is one sitting there?" He asked trying his hardest to sound authoritative, which was hard with his small stature and the other's annoyingly casual attitude about such things. After all, he'd been stuffed into another one of those horrid, itchy, _girly_ gowns only days before - if this was his way of apologizing, oh, no way! Cake wouldn't get him anywhere. No matter how good it looked...

France smiled brightly, turning his back to the smaller nation and digging through a large drawer, only half listening as he searched. "Why do you think? It's vingt-deux Avril, no? Your birthday." He raised a brow, looing over his shoulder to fix his young charge with a curious look. "Did you forget?"

Oh. Well, it wasn't really his fault, right? Only France had calendars, and he tried to avoid France and his house at all costs. It was a difficult feat cosidering it was currently France who looked after the young nation, but...still. He'd rather avoid his company. He's just a girly wanker...even ignores all the faeries just to annoy him, well, it's easy enough to unerstand why he wouldn't want to be near that sissy-girl.

"I-I didn't forget! I just didn't know the exact day, is all! Get that bloody grin off your face you git!" He glared with as much anger as he could summon up, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep focused on the Frenchman with that cake sitting there. France _did_ cook well - well, not as good as him, but it wasn't _bad_- he blinked, wondering what flavor it could posibly be. Vanilla. Pleeeease be vanilla.

France's grin was unwavering as he lit a few candles, shrugging happily as he leaned against the kitchen counter and raised a brow at the tiny nation eyeing up his wonderfully decorated cake. "You know, you can have some if you want. It's yours, I made it just for you. Just blow out the candles first." His grin widened as England snapped his head back towards him again.

"Why are you suddenly so nice?" he asked warily, his anoyed tone from earlier replaced by an innocently curious one, if a bit cautious. "You're usually such a prancy little prat..."

France blinked, eyebrows high on his forehead as he clicked his tongue again and sighed. "Ahh, lapin, I like to think our little fights are just how we communicate. But it IS your birthday, what kind of brother would I be if I didn't make something to celebrate?" He asked raising a brow, almost offended at the thought of ignoring the birthday of a charge. Even if it _was_ England. To think, he'd even went through all the effort to make that cake!

"Oh..." England looked down at his feet, which dangled at least half a foot from the ground if he guessed correctly. He'd gone from frustrated to nearly self-concious in a matter of minutes. Damn French Frog-face... "Well, I mean, uh..." he was spared from the silence as France quickly lifted him into the air, holding him out over the table and laughing.

"Unless you want wax on your cake Angleterre, I would make a wish and blow them out now!" He said quickly, making sure England's struggling fists didn't do any damage to himself or the cake before lowering him down again and watching him scrunch his nose in thought, take a deep breath, and blow out the few candles. "Very good, Angleterre!" he said nodding, setting him carefully down in his chair and slicing the cake into fairly large pieces. England always overate, but there wasn't much harm in spoiling him again today.

"I didn't make the wish because you told me to, just so you know." England mumbled staring at the wedge of cake France had set in front of him, "I did it because a faerie told me people do that." Well...not his most convincing lie, really; but anything would work.

France seated himself to one side of the table, taking small bites and admiring his own culinary skills as he watched England eat. Well, he didn't really eat the cake, 'devoured' or 'inhaled' might be better words. Good to know his labors paid off.

"You got icing all over you, lapin. Such a messy thing." He said in mock disappointment, chuckling and dampening a cloth before crouching next to his charge, who was at that point leaned back in his chair, eyes closed as he enjoyed his treat. It definately had to have been the first time he'd been given one, he couldn't even picture any of his brothers doing something like this. He opened one eye lazily as France swabbed his mouth and chin gently, blinking.

"Hey, Frog-Face?" He asked quietly, shifting to sit in a slightly more upright position in the chair.

"Hm?" Came the distant reply.

"You're not my brother you know." England said crossing his arms halfheartedly and emitting a tiny noise of distaste. France blinked and looked up, a slightly confused expression on his face "What do you mean by that, Angleterre?" He asked tilting his head.

"Earlier, you made it out like you were my brother. You said 'What kind of brother would I be...'," He explained nodding and rubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the let-down expression making it's way into view on France's face. He was always so touchy about things like that, he really needed to get tougher.

France nodded, the sarcastic remark England had been expecting never came as he sighed and went about washing their plates and utensils, pushing his hair back.

Dammit. _Now_ he felt bad. France just made everything worse when he did this...Now he had to say something, he wouldn't be able to sleep if France was going to be all upset. He watched France's back move as he washed, forcing himself to keep his eyes open until he was fnially finished. Damn how comfortable he felt, full and warm.

"Are you spending the night, lapin?" He asked drying his hands and looking over at England; he would be staying, but if he assumed he'd be staying he would definately get fussy. England nodded, eyes half-lidded, looking up as France extended both arms and lifted him up for the second time in one night (definately a new record for them) and held him against his side, glancing down at the samller nation as they walked. He certainly had an odd expression on his face...

"Hey, France..." Well, it was definately rare England would call him a normal name, and not soemthing directly insulting. "I was thinking...I mean..." He glared at the floor, frustrated with himself, "You're annoying and girly and stuff...but t-thank you. You can be my brother, but _just_ for today, okay?" He asked quietly, voice barely louder then a whisper by the time the sentence had ended.

"Oui, alright lapin." France responded, back to his usual aggravatingly-happy self as he set Arthur down on his bed, pulling a blanket over him and making sure the thick, slightly scratchy fabric wasn't against his face. "Goodnight mon lapin, joyeux anniversarie."

"Yeah yeah, whatever Froggy..."

**A/N: Plot bunny, eliminated. Thank god.**


End file.
